In spirit
by Abandonedsrry
Summary: It’s not real. It’s not real.' Zuko involuntarily shuddered. 'This isn’t happening.' Yaoi. ?/Zuko


**Title:** In spirit  
**Pairing:** ?/Zuko  
**Rating:** M  
**Warning:** Violence, Non-con, and nasty mindfucking. D:

**A/N:** Written for the Avatar Kink meme. Someone got there before me, so I may as well put it here instead.

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Zuko's doesn't want the Avatar to see what's happening; he doesn't want him to see the hands roaming over his chest, the tongue sliding sensually up his neck, catching his scent. He still tries to convince himself this is just a dream, but when the hands begin to slide under his shirt, poking and pressuring the soft flesh just beneath his ribs, he has to force his breath still. He's aware that his face is flushed red, and that Aang is staring at him curiously, doing nothing more than poking at his already tattering nerves.

When the hands move lower, and the figure behind him whispers words of hate in his ear, he forces his hands against the fountains front, his face flushed red as his abdomen churns. The 'boomerang guy' seems to notice this and looks over, eyebrows arched in an almost unreadable expression, of worry or amusement, he couldn't tell. He was too busy biting his tongue to listen to whatever the boy had to say, but it sounded like a question of his health, and right now he didn't know what to answer. The hands had manage to release his length, and were now moving up and down in a continuous pattern, causing him to let out a choked whimper, one that didn't pass the others in his presence.

This time it was the Water bender girl who spoke, repeating the exact same question her idiotic brother had asked. Zuko quickly shook his head and lowered his eyes. "I-I'm…" The hand tightened and he winced, blinking back the white lights that clouded his vision. "F-feeling sick, I-I'm going to go…go now…" He quickly lifted himself from the ground, glad that the figure behind him had released his length, and headed off towards the nearest cave—only to feel the same hands that had been touching him moments before coax him towards the buildings. Despite wanting to do nothing more than burn the figure in to oblivion, he was forced to follow when his struggles seemed to merely excite the other.

_It can't be real. It can't be real. It__**can't**__bereal._ The hands pushed him in to one of the many hidden rooms in the temple, causing him to land ungracefully on his front. He scrambled for the exit but felt the figure lift him carelessly from the ground and press him against the wall, keeping him there with one hand and using the other to part his legs. Zuko struggled again, all in vain when the hand re-placed itself over his length, stroking it firmly, almost instantly draining away all objections. It wasn't loving, it wasn't for pleasure, it was to humiliate him, and he knew it. But despite that, he couldn't help but mentally groan at the heat that flooded through his body with each stroke.

The hand was slowly moved away and he slumped, eyes half lidded, his length still throbbing painfully. It was only when warmth flooded over him that he jerked, hands coming to the figures shoulders, pushing them, trying to force him off. A tongue slid up against him and he trembled, letting out a sound similar to a whimper. In an attempt to escape, he kicked his legs at the figures shoulders, only to feel them sink right through as if he were air. The rest of the attackers body seemed solid to him, not warm, not alive, but solid.

The sensual licking, nipping and sucking continued as Zuko pressed the back of his head against the wall in an attempt to keep his moans in his throat, and his tears at bay. He wouldn't give his attacker the pleasure of hearing him make such sounds—or so he hoped he wouldn't.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to block out what was happening to him. It was a hard task, considering his position.

The hands pressed against his hips tightened as he jerked, his eyes flying open and a low whimper escaping his lips as he released. When he was sure the burning sensation was going away, he slumped, closed his eyes, and began to shiver and tug his hands around his chest, hoping to gain some warmth from under the temple. If he we're to use fire bending now, it would merely attract the Avatar and his friends—something he did NOT want to happen.

"You think we're done?" The chuckle that met his ears caused another bout of thrashing that simply resulted in his hands been held high above his head, and the figures familiar mocking words been whispered against his ear. When his hands were finally released he tried pushing the figure once more, but found his hands sinking through the figures shoulders, into nothing-ness. The mere surprise of this—even thought it had happened before—caused him to jerk his hands away.

The figure took advantage of Zuko's shock and placed a hand either side the boys thighs, caressing and pinching at the pale flesh. The Prince opened his mouth to object, but found himself speechless as the supposed-ghost pressed his knees back and began to spread his legs. "…" He was silent for a moment, mentally cursing himself for showing such obvious fear. Instead of speaking he tried to thrash again, but at finding that once again useless, he attempted to pull his knees back together—which also had no effect on his attacker.

He struggled for a good four minutes and only stopped when he heard the un-familiar clinking of the others belt. "G-get off me!" He could have slapped himself for sounding so pathetic, but refrained from doing so when the other pressed him back, rather carelessly, into the wall.

There was no 'get ready's' nor any other words of comfort as the figure lifted his hips, positioning him. "N-Nghh, d—" he was cut off when the figure entered, and instead of words a loud gasp escaped his lips, then a cry—which was blocked when a hand covered his mouth.

The prince forced air through his clenched teeth as the figure began to move, grunting, pushing, breathing heavily against his neck, and leaving him to force his eyes closed in attempt to block out all that was happening. The thought that someone would get pleasure from such a _loathsome_ act made his stomach drop. But then, he wasn't sure whether or not the figure was real, even if his words we're familiar, along with his face and his stature, he still wanted him to be fake. That at least would give him some comfort.

_It's not real. It's not real._ Zuko involuntarily shuddered. _This isn't happening._

The attacker leant forward and began to whisper in his ear as he moved, mixing compliments with insults, and repeatedly using the words 'slut' and 'fire nation'. Zuko himself didn't hear the majority of them, but that didn't mean the few he did hear didn't hurt. The hand that had been over his mouth shifted, now moving down to jerk his legs further apart, causing him to yelp softly.

He forced his mouth closed and began to breathe rhythmically, trying hard to focus on anything but the heat moving inside of him.

Only when the movements slowed, and the figure gave a low moan did Zuko crack open his eyes, watching as the figure finally released its hold. He shakily lifted himself up against the wall, breathing heavily as the ghost smiled down at him, obviously pleased with his work.

Zuko blinked, and the figure was gone, leaving him sweaty and bloody up against the temples walls. He could hear Aang and his friends talking in the distance, but did nothing to attract their attention. Instead, he lifted himself from the ground, trembling softly, and headed towards the nearest fountain in hopes of getting clean.

And as he staggered and limped, for once in his life, Zuko mourned the death of Admiral Zhao.


End file.
